The mute self trembles in the chain of events,
going through dark tunnels and caves
to find faith again.

The pure origin behind all happenings;
where the mother earth holds all returning.
Witnessing; like a silent tree
still and grounded; observes dance of leaves.
Fragments of passing seasons; falling soundless
below my breasts, bring all buried sorrows
to the surface.
Beneath pain and despair;
hundred years of loving
water my grief –bitten heart.

My tears fall on the burnt jasmine
of my dreams; allowing begins,
inside the hollow of fear and terror
the dark landscapes of doubts.
I surrender to current
and move closer to the only place I belong;
the pilgrimage.
The edge of terror force me to kneel down
on the hard ground of now; with no cloth
push my hands inside the damp soil
face the thorny storm and recognize
the light inside
the darkness of my nights,
to feel my roots and know my nature,
to rise higher than my condition
up, up, into the blue boundless sky.

Give me back my wings, I fly.
Give me back my bridge, I cross.
Give me back my ocean, I swim.
I surrender; give me back my strength
I move deeper in love.

Your love eat my heart;
and silence unfolds the dark landscapes inside.
Your eyes touching the far corner of my nights;
in flames, the burning moth.

I put salt in the hearts of the world
to grow truth;
my voice is stone and distant from ears.
I walk alone, room to room,
town to town; with hours to spend
and a passport full of stamps.
I blow pages of poetry,
my words die before their time.

Move deeper into darkness.
At the edge of the world,
for the sake of meeting love,
I become a lifted light.
Flying free over chestnut trees
above the silent monasteries;
rising alone like a sun.
My body pitched into your streams
my heart; a torch burning
in your every drop of blood.

The path ended my futures,
no looking beyond.
I walk alone in circles; meeting my fate.
I am there; buried inside
the night’s bell and the forgotten wheel;
I am all that is real.

Many lives ago,
On the road,
pilgrimage of love,
I saw two small birds,
one in the color of white, ( I called it Shams) the other one, dark grey, ( I called it moon). I never saw a third bird. The road became partner of my loneliness and birds the clouds above my head. They made love and flared up Like flames, Over my head. Their ashes, Moved the mountains, moved the lakes, Moved me To the throat of time, To become a lover of life, to swim in stream Of shams,
moon and stars.
I became a silver waterfall,
Full of naked girls,
sun bathing on the rocks.
I became passing horses,
Covered in snow white,
Or sometimes brown mud.
I became
hawks with feathers
Sealed in the name of shams*.
I became the lady of the forests,
in dark,
Gaze into the moon,
Count beads,
Remembrance of her lost love.
I became the two birds,
In spirit
Measuring the sky.
White
moved
into the dark.
nothingness
swallowed
the two separated worlds
Transformed them
into One…
An eagle,
a reborn child of sky,
The third bird,
fly out
from heart of the night,
Naked, playful.
In each turn,
white, grey of her feathers
fade away in color of love.
Eagle whirls
In silence,
not aware of self,
enters to unknown,
Illuminates
in love.
Pilgrimage to love,
Is not a road
or destination,
love is
everywhere
and nowhere.
Fly is a legacy
of eagles,
and
Love is a legacy
of all creation.
Whirl in love,
whirl in nothingness,
pilgrimage of love,
is the sacred
in You.

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